


Sweet Sister

by Dusty_Forgotten (DustyForgotten)



Category: Repo! The Genetic Opera (2008)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Comedy, Drug Addiction, Dysfunctional Family, F/M, Family Feels, Gen, Murder, Rage, Rape, Self-Esteem Issues, plastic surgery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-30
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-11-06 15:34:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11039109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DustyForgotten/pseuds/Dusty_Forgotten
Summary: Is it incest? The answer may surprise you.





	Sweet Sister

**Author's Note:**

> I don't normally do disclaimers, because I feel it should be obvious.
> 
> The comic relief in this movie are a murderer and rapist. I don't know whay you expect.

If you’ve ever seen Amber more than once a month, you know she’s a fucking scalpel slut, because she’s got a different face from the last time you saw her. Living with her— even as great of lengths as the Largo children go to to avoid each other— her brothers knew the first time she got an under-table nosejob at fifteen. Couldn’t blame her, though; she had a real Italian nose.

One little rhinoplasty became a browlift, and botox, and a thousand other  _ little _ procedures until  _ little _ Carmela Largo was Miss Amber Sweet, and there wasn’t a similarity between them.

She was seventeen when Pavi beat on her bedroom door; he needed a shower, but hers had been running for an hour and a half. The oldest sibling couldn’t stand to listen to them bickering anymore, kicked the door down, and found his little sister passed out and shivering on the bathroom floor with enough Zydrate in her system to put their dad out— and he was a whole lot bigger than her, back then.

Amber was finally legal, and she stunk of sex and the dumpster she probably had it in. Luigi would know that kind of knee-knocking gait anywhere— living with Pavi, you get to recognize what a girl with a bruised vagina walks like.

“You’re a slut,” he’d muttered scathingly, but he couldn’t even look at his sister as he said it.

She mumbled back in a voice raw from screaming, “Like you’re any better.”

At nineteen, she had to call Luigi down to let her in because the guards didn’t recognize her. Full facial regraft, not a skin cell she grew herself. He thought of that old paradox, with the ax and the replacement parts, and wondered if she was really his sister anymore.

That was the year someone snapped a few pictures of Amber fucked out of her mind on Z and the sex she bought it with— and they actually made it to a couple cover stories before Pops pulled them. He finally intervened, fixed her royally fucked facelift and made up the Zydrate Support Network just to keep her occupied and (hopefully) off the streets.

Two days from her twentieth birthday, and Luigi was in the middle of choking out his freak brother when Amber brushed past them.  “Where the fuck’re you going!?”

“Out!”

He groaned, and decided to drop the fucker in favour of chasing after his sister. She could press the door shut button all she liked, Luigi could still jam his knee between the elevator doors. Amber shrieked indignantly as he slid in next to her, “You’re so fucking controlling!”

“I’m your older brother. It’s what I do!” he shouted in her face. She rolled her eyes, crossed her arms, and pouted over-filled lips. “It’s one in the fucking morning! You’re either getting sliced or shot up, and you’re not supposed to be doing either.”

Her hair whirled as she snapped her head in Luigi’s direction. “How’s your girlfriend? Oh, right, you stabbed her to death!”

She meant it as an insult, but it bounced right off the elder Largo. He murdered all his girlfriends. “Zydrate, I get it, drugs are fucking awesome, but the surgery… Hey, if you can only get off when someone’s cuttin’ you up, you can just ask.”

Amber nearly told him to cut it out before she realized how literally he would take that suggestion— especially considering he’d already flicked open one of a dozen switchblades on his person and leered with it angled her general direction. She kicked him in the back of the knee, and Luigi stumbled only a second before righting himself, slipping the knife away with a scowl. She tossed her hair over her shoulder, and pointed a chin that would soon be a sliver daintier.

They were nearing the ground floor when Luigi slammed the emergency stop, lurching the elevator to a halt.

“Hey!” Amber hissed, reaching for the panel. 

He stepped in front with a frown. “Seriously, the fuck’s your problem?”

“ _ My _ problem!? You’re the one that stopped the elevator!”

“Oh, no, sister,” and when he said it, it sounded degrading, “you’re the most manipulative bitch on this planet—”

“ _ Thanks, _ ” she seethed, biting, lunging for the buttons, but he smacked her hand away— lightly, so lightly; he’d strangle Pavi half to death, but her brothers would never lay a hand on her in more than semi-uncomfortable innuendo.

Luigi picked up the sentence where she cut him off, “You don’t do anything without a reason. Come on, what is this? Publicity, attention, cry for help?”

“I just want to be pretty, okay!?” With that unintended admission, she boxed his ears, and shoved him shocked and staggering out of her way.

She set the elevator back in motion to Luigi rubbing the side of his head yelling, “You could’ve fucked up my hearing, you fucking cunt! I could be deaf right now!”

“Maybe then you wouldn’t want to hear yourself talk all the time!”

He straightened up, smoothed the lines of his suit jacket, and shook his head, smiling. That was never good. “Oh no,  _ sister, _ you’re not getting off the hook that fucking easy.” He stepped closer, in an elevator made big enough for Rotti’s ego, and stabbed a finger at her. “You said you want to be pretty. What, like fucking Pavi? You won’t have a choice if you keep this shit up.”

This was really not a conversation she wanted to have with her stupid psychopath of a brother, but who else could she tell? Daddy didn’t listen, Pavi was even worse. She crossed her arms and looked over her shoulder as the floor counter ticked down: close now. “Forget it.”

Luigi grabbed her by the shoulders, “Goddammit Amber, fucking talk to me!” Angrily, shouted, but it still sounded strangely sentimental.

The doors slid open, and when Luigi wasn’t letting go, Amber kneed him in the cock and strode out. 

So, he gave up.

Luigi was talking shop with that Repo Man with the funny hat when some bitch interrupted him with a tap on the shoulder. His lip was already curled when he glared over his shoulder, at a face he didn’t recognize (didn’t recognize many; the Genterns turned over too quick to bother) but there was no red mask and she wasn’t wearing white latex, so guess who?

“How do I look?” Amber asked. Her chin was a little thinner, cheeks a little fuller, and she went blonde, this time. 

“Like a whore,” he replied simply, turning fully. The Repo Man took his cue, exit stage left. “What the fuck do you want?”

“Nothing!” she stammered, and glared at the jars over her shoulder. “… Just wondering if you liked the new face.”

He snorted as he pushed past her. “Since when do you give a fuck what I think?”

“I don’t!” she snapped, but Luigi hadn’t gone far. Just a few shelves down, really. “It wouldn’t kill you to say I’m pretty!”

He blinked at the line of jars, artificial organs and formaldehyde, and then at his sister, nose wrinkled and mouth downturned— shit, he’s gonna stab something.

“Where the fuck’s this coming from?” he asked instead, all the consonants violent like he wished he was right then.

Amber rolled her eyes. Crossed her arms. Blinked stitched-on lashes. “Just thought I’d ask…”

She was stomping off before he could respond. The massive crash, boom, shatter and splash caught her attention— obviously, it was from Luigi’s direction.

She turned to see an entire shelving unit stretched out on the floor, organs and preservatives spilling from their jars. He still had that particular frown— the kind that made her want collagen injections just looking at it, she could tell even from the distance. “You’re my sister, so I think you’re the hottest thing on the fucking planet! You stupid cunt!”

He kicked an already ruined spleen lying around, and it made pretty good height before it smacked a Gentern in the back of the head. She shrieked indignantly, and then Luigi was stabbing her, and Amber got the fuck out of there.

She spent a lot of time thinking about that.

He was just getting to the good part when there was a knock on his door. “Fuck off!” Luigi snapped.

Whoever it was didn’t have the good sense to listen, but Luigi was a little preoccupied. “Don’t care!”

The knocking grew more insistent, until he was growling through his teeth and stomping to throw the door open. “Spit it out, and get fucking lost, I’m busy!”

No answer. Seething, Luigi threw the door open, buck knife slashing through whatever was on the other side. It caught in one overfilled breast implant; Amber barely flinched.

“Amber, what the fuck? I could’ve killed you! The fuck are you doing over—”

The black streaks down her cheeks, ending at her chin weren’t sharp enough to be part of that gothic thing she was trying out. She cried half her makeup off. Lipstick smudged over her chin, tits up to her neck, the tights looked like they were supposed to be ripped, but there was blood running down the inside of her thigh.

“What the fuck, Amber?” Luigi reiterated, a little quieter. She just swayed quietly on her seven-inch heels, knife sticking out of her left tit, like she didn’t even mind. Like it wasn’t the worst she’d had tonight.

There was blood on his teeth, and a dead body in his bed.

“Just,” he hedged, holding up a finger while he narrowed the gap of the door, “stay right there.”

Luigi rolled his ex— or, what was left of her— up in the blanket she’d died on, dropping it in the tub, where he abandoned his blood-soaked shirt. He grabbed a fresh one from the closet, threaded his arms through the sleeves before opening to door to invite Amber in.

She just stood there, staring down at her toes, picking her nails. Luigi tore one of her hands away, and dragged her in. He locked the door behind them.

Amber toed out of her stilettos.

“What the fuck happened, sister?”

She shrugged. Sat down on the bed, legs pinched at the knees. He shoved her shoulder. “Amber. What did you do?”

“I…” she mumbled, hoarse. Teased her fingers through her hair, shinier than it used to be, but her natural colour again. Maybe he just forgot what her natural colour was. “I was already fucked up, so I don’t… I think that…”

She picked an artificial nail out of its bed. “… Is it still rape if you can’t feel it?”

Luigi paused in buttoning his shirt. “Fuck, I don’t know. Ask Pavi.”

She huffed a deprecating laugh. “Yeah, right.” Luigi tugged his shirt straight, and bounced on the bed next to her. “No, let’s just… keep this between us, okay?”

“Yeah, whatever.” Amber’s fake nail on the floor, Luigi clawed blood out from under his. “Sorry about your…”

He made a rather lewd motion, indicating a pair of boobs, to which Amber scoffed. “I was gonna replace them, anyway.” She gripped the handle of the knife, pulling until the weight of her own flesh dislodged it. She returned the weapon to her brother, who rolled his eyes away as he took it. Amber stood, startling him with a peck to his cheek.

“Thanks, Lou.”

“I didn’t do anything!” he snapped.

Amber Sweet smiled, flecks of mascara on her currently green eyes. “No. Not yet.” She sauntered out, leaving her shoes in the middle of his bedroom floor and her brother with a hunting knife and a dead body.

It wasn’t his last of the night.


End file.
